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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/27274546">Quicksilver in His Veins</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/Jackdaw816/pseuds/Jackdaw816'>Jackdaw816</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Torchwood</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Fix-It of Sorts, Immortality, M/M, Non-Consensual Blood Drinking, Post-Episode: s02e01 Kiss Kiss Bang Bang, Vampires</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>In-Progress</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-10-30</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-10-30</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-07 03:20:47</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>3,771</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/27274546</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/Jackdaw816/pseuds/Jackdaw816</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>John's back, but his smile is a little sharper this time around (and Ianto has to suffer the consequences)</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Jack Harkness/Ianto Jones</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>7</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>31</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Collections:</b></td><td>Torchwood Fan Fests: Halloween Fest 2020</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Quicksilver in His Veins</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>I'm just gonna make one thing clear before y'all read this, alright? I have never seen Buffy the Vampire Slayer, so any and all possible allusions to it are complete coincidence. Please, just... leave me be. He's not Spike. Everyone clear? We good? Carry on then, and enjoy the fic!</p><p>Prompt: Creatures, witches, and cryptids</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Ianto really needed to stop being out on the streets in the middle of the night. Honestly, he could blame most of it on Torchwood. Late nights were part of the job, albeit more frequently than when he’d worked in London. Tonight though, he had no one to blame but himself.</p><p>He hadn’t meant to wander, honestly. His car was in the shop, and although Jack had offered to drive him home, and more, Ianto had turned him down. He just wanted to sleep, although a shag wouldn’t have been the worst end to the night. So now he was walking home, at half-past eleven, when he really should have taken a taxi.</p><p>And now he was walking past some club, <em> The Temple, </em>judging by the neon lights. The music was actually pretty good, a bit heavy on bass though as Ianto could feel it through his shoes. He stopped for a moment just outside. The club gave him a weird sense of nostalgia.</p><p>Even when he was dating Lisa, and even before then, Ianto Jones had never really been a club sort of guy. The music was nice, but the crowds and the lights were not. And the liquor was always way overpriced anyway. </p><p>But still. Ianto went straight from a slightly delinquent childhood to suits, aliens, and the manner of a much older man. Hell, the last club he’d been in was for work! As Ianto started walking again, he bumped into a bloke who had come out of the club in a rush.</p><p>“Sorry,”  Ianto mumbled and was prepared to forget the incident. But as the bloke stumbled into the light of a streetlamp, fumbling with a lighter and a cigarette, Ianto recognized him, clear as day. The obnoxious red jacket and sharp cheekbones made him very obvious, but it was the leather bracer on his right wrist that truly sealed the deal.</p><p>“You!” Ianto spat, spinning around on his heel, suit jacket flying with him. The bloke looked up, and upon spotting Ianto, his face split into a grin that was only malicious to those who knew him. And Ianto wished he didn’t. So he did the next best thing and punched Captain John Hart in the face, hard.</p><p>Shaking out his hand, Ianto stepped back as John crumpled to the ground. It felt good, honestly, watching the captain swear and rub at his jaw. He certainly deserved it. John picked up his lighter and pack of smokes before stumbling back to his feet. </p><p>“Jack certainly picked a fighter, didn’t he?” John joked. Ianto just scowled.</p><p>“What are you doing here?” Ianto asked, crossing his arms to hide the fact that his hand really hurt. John did not have a glass jaw, despite the cut of his cheekbones. He grinned and flicked the lighter.</p><p>“Isn’t it obvious?” John gestured with the cigarette before lighting it and taking a drag. Ianto’s stomach roiled at the smell of the smoke. He had smoked before, mostly when he was stressed. Well, really stressed. But Lisa had convinced him to quit, and he hadn’t so much as touched a pack in years.</p><p>“You are aware how nasty those are for your lungs?” Ianto said, disgust plainly evident in his voice. John laughed, a genuine full-bodied laugh. Then he blew a ring of smoke in Ianto’s direction. Ianto hated the small part of himself that was impressed. He’d never been able to do that.</p><p>“I’m from the future, love,” John drawled. “I can handle a little nicotine.” He grinned again, his smile sharper than Ianto remembered. In fact, he did seem different than last time. Not in any obvious way, but Ianto had a good sixth sense. Something had changed.</p><p>“Alright,” Ianto said. “Take your poison then, and get out of Cardiff. I’d rather not have to call Jack.” John pouted.</p><p>“Why, scared he’ll see he made the wrong choice?” John challenged, flicking his half-smoked cigarette into the street. He seemed more… wild, all of a sudden, as if a switch had been flipped. He smiled again, but it was less a smile and more a baring of teeth. Teeth that actually were sharp, Ianto noted with alarm. His upper canines were elongated and honed, almost as if he had… no, no, that couldn’t be right.</p><p>“No, I just don’t want to deal with the paperwork when he puts a bullet in you,” Ianto said, pushing his irrational fear down and away. “So get out now.” But John wasn’t listening. He was trembling slightly, and his eyes were locked on Ianto. Ianto had seen something similar before; that was a man trying to hold himself back from something overwhelming.</p><p>“Hart?” Ianto asked, slowly stepping backward. He was suddenly hyperaware that a car hadn’t passed in minutes, and it was just him and John, alone on the street. He really wished that he had his gun. But all he could do is prepare to run and not let his eyes leave John.</p><p>It was then that he noticed how pale John was. Not vampire pale, just white guy pale. But it was more than that. He seemed to have no color in his cheeks. Even his eyes looked faded, more gray than blue. It was if his blood-</p><p>It was then that John lunged with a hiss. Ianto briskly turned on his heel and ran. He didn’t know this part of town well, and when he turned down an alley hoping to avoid civilians, he was irritated to find that it was a dead end. But there was an exit door at the end, and he made for it; it was his only chance.</p><p>But Lady Luck was not on his side. Before he’d made it ten paces down the alley, John slammed into him from behind, knocking him to the ground. He flipped over and tried to hit John again, but he caught Ianto’s wrist, moving faster than seemed possible. He tried to buck John off, but he was caught fast, John’s strength seemingly enhanced.</p><p>“John,” Ianto rasped, still struggling weakly. “Stop this. Jack will kill you.” He briefly worried that John was going to rape him. He honestly wouldn’t put it past the psychopath. But no, something told him that that wasn’t John’s end goal. John smiled, and Ianto realized just how sharp his canines, no, <em>fangs</em>, really were.</p><p>John leaned in close to Ianto’s face, one hand laced through his hair and holding his head down so that he couldn’t headbutt him. Pity. They made eye contact, and Ianto noticed that his eyes weren’t gray. They were silver.</p><p>“I’d like to see him try,” John said, and his voice sounded so normal, so <em>human, </em> that it turned Ianto’s blood to ice. He leaned in further, and for a second, Ianto thought John was going to kiss him. Instead, he turned his head and sank his teeth into Ianto’s exposed neck.</p><p>Ianto couldn’t move, couldn’t even scream. All he could do was feel as John pulled away from the bite, and blood started to flow. Ianto severely wished that he would just pass out when John, or whatever he was, leaned back in and started to suck. He couldn’t describe the feeling, and he didn’t want to.</p><p>As Ianto started to fade away, he felt John’s tongue on his neck, licking over the wounds. It was so gross, Ianto almost snapped back to wakefulness. Instead, he passed out, not feeling John’s weight leaving him, or hearing the shout that rang down the alley.</p><p> </p><hr/><p> </p><p>Back at the Hub, Jack was sulking on the couch. He’d deny it, but that’s what he was doing. It had been a long, boring day. Everyone had cleared out early, except Ianto, who had made use of the lull to get some well-needed work done in the archives. Around eleven, Jack had forced Ianto to go home, or at least stop working. But now he was gone, having hailed a cab, and Jack was alone in the Hub and bored as shit.</p><p>There was one thing though. An item, a laser knife, that had fallen through during their one Rift alert of the day. Owen and Gwen went out to retrieve it, and Gwen had almost cut her finger off. When they got back, knife still protruding that five-inch orange light blade, Jack actually did cut his finger off. Whoops.</p><p>Now, finger regrown, Jack held the deactivated knife up and stared at it. It was strange. Laser knives had been created a few hundred years before he was born and banned in most systems not long after. And yet, he knew a few people who carried them. One man in particular. And this was his make and model.</p><p>No, this couldn’t be that knife. There were plenty of them floating out through the universe; the chances that it was his were infinitesimal. And yet, Jack couldn’t bring himself to check the base for the initials he knew in his soul would be scratched there. Instead, he placed it in a small chest of weapons he kept under his bed and erased its existence from the files.</p><p>Knife handled, now Jack had nothing to do besides simply wait for the next day to come. He could sleep, but he didn’t need much sleep anyway, and he didn’t feel like dreaming. He debated leaving the Hub, maybe joining Ianto at his flat. But he’d been watching the Rift for over a century, and he knew that when there’s a lull, it tended to spit up something big not long after. And he would hate to have to work not fully rested.</p><p>So Jack stood up and made his way to his office. He shrugged off his coat, hanging it on the coat rack gently. Then he made his way down into his bunker that Ianto, and literally everyone else who had seen it, said was too small. Jack didn’t mind. He had much worse. </p><p>He stripped down to his boxers, got under the covers, and despite not being tired, passed out almost the second his head hit the pillow. Fortunately, or maybe, unfortunately, Jack wasn’t asleep long enough to dream before his mobile rang, the alarm echoing in the confined space.</p><p>Jack bolted awake, not unlike coming back to life. But it was silent, no ozone-destroying gasp of breath. He tumbled out of bed, groping blindly for his mobile, abandoned in his trousers. He found the offending article, and pulling his mobile out of his pocket, answered without even looking at the caller.</p><p>“Harkness,” Jack said, getting to his feet. There was no response for a moment, just static that could have been anything. Jack was about to hang up and go back to bed when Gwen spoke.</p><p>“Jack,” she said, her voice taut. “I’ve just got a call from PC Andy. Apparently, Ianto’s been attacked.” Jack flinched, and he almost dropped the phone.</p><p>“What?” he snapped, his voice low and cold. Gwen, mostly unphased, carried on. </p><p>“He’s alive, and he’s stable. They took him to St. Helen’s, and I called Owen to meet us there.” Jack felt a sudden rush of anger. Why hadn’t she hadn’t called him first?  But it passed almost as quickly as it had arrived. Owen was the medic, and Ianto was hurt. Oh fuck, <em> Ianto was hurt. </em></p><p>“I’ll be there,” Jack said roughly and hung up.</p><p> </p><hr/><p> </p><p>Gwen let her hand clutching her mobile fall to her side and sighed. She was standing outside of a hospital room, flashing her ID at any medical staff who tried to get inside, and politely, but firmly turning them away. Owen had yet to arrive, but the paramedics had said that while Ianto had lost blood, he wouldn’t need a transfusion.  That was a good sign, at least.</p><p>Gwen barely knew anything about the attack. Andy had called her, but that was because the paramedics had called him when they saw Ianto’s ID. The PC had developed a bit of a rep as the Torchwood-obsessed bloke. Anyway, but Andy hadn’t known anything beyond Ianto being attacked. She’d requested a transcript of the 999 call and the report and names of the paramedics who responded. They’d need to be Retconned if Ianto’s attacker had been non-human.</p><p>But for now, all Gwen could do was wait. Luckily, it wasn’t long before Owen came barreling down the hall. He looked ruffled; he’d sounded asleep when Gwen had called him earlier. But he’d obviously rushed to get here.</p><p>“Tea boy’s in there?” Owen asked, jerking a thumb at Ianto’s room. Gwen nodded, and Owen skidded to a halt in front of her.</p><p>“I don’t know anything beyond what I told you,” Gwen admitted. Owen gave a stiff nod.</p><p>“I’m sure he’ll be fine,” Owen said at an attempt of reassurance before entering the room. Relief swept over her at Owen’s presence, but the lack of knowledge was infuriating. Had someone broken into his flat? Or had he been out? Obviously, he hadn’t been with Jack, which would have been Gwen’s first guess.</p><p>She had learned from Tosh that Jack had asked Ianto out on a proper date during the incident with Captain Hart. But as far as Tosh knew, they had never actually gone on it. Ianto didn’t like talking about his… whatever it was he had with Jack. And Tosh respected that. Owen had no interest in what they were getting up to, and Gwen maintained a healthy curiosity that she never actually acted on.</p><p>Someone from the hospital came by then with the paramedics’ report, the pair of names printed neatly at the top. Gwen made a mental note to pass those on to- wait, shit, Ianto normally did the Retconning. She amended her reminder to take care of the Retconning herself. It was the least she could do.</p><p>Before she could actually read the report, the doors at the end of the wing dramatically swung open, and Jack strode through them, coat whipping behind him. He spotted Gwen, and his gait turned into a jog.</p><p>“Is Owen here?” Jack boomed, sounding every bit as impressive as he looked. Gwen knew that when he was nervous, he either fell apart or focused even harder on his captain persona. Looks like this calamity fell under the latter.</p><p>“Yes, he’s looking at Ianto now. And I left Tosh a message letting her know what happened and asking her to cover the Hub,” Gwen explained. Jack stiffly nodded.</p><p>“Good. What’s that?” he asked, gesturing to the file in her hands.</p><p>“The report from the paramedics. I’ve also asked the police to retrieve the transcript of the 999 call, and I have the names for if we need to Retcon.” Despite the worry for Ianto, Gwen was proud of her work ethic. Jack offered her a brief smile. </p><p>“Brilliant.” Jack took the report from her hands. “I’ll give this to Owen. Why don’t you go track down that 999 caller?” There was a slight edge to his voice, unnoticeable except to his team. He put on a good facade, but he was terrified. Gwen nodded.</p><p>“Of course,” she replied before turning on her heel and leaving, relieved to be away from the center of the action. Police work? That she could do.</p><p> </p><hr/><p> </p><p>Jack took a deep breath before entering Ianto’s hospital room. He had been hurt before under Jack’s watch, but it was the uncertainty that shook Jack to his core. The not knowing if it was just a graze, or if he was going to have to say goodbye to yet another friend and lover.</p><p>Owen was bustling about the room doing medical stuff. But he didn’t seem distressed, and Jack took that as a good sign. The beep of the machines was comforting, steady. Jack clenched the report in his hands, wrinkling the crisp white pages.</p><p>“Oi, is that the paramedic report?” Owen asked, noticing Jack’s presence. He nodded and the doctor snatched it out of his hands. “Brilliant.” He started to read while Jack turned his attention to the bed</p><p>Ianto looked young and frail, unconscious in a hospital gown. The only sign that he wasn’t just sleeping was the large plaster covering the left side of his neck. Jack felt a rush of grief and then a surge of anger. Whatever hurt him, they would pay.</p><p>“Oh, that makes sense. As in, it doesn’t bloody make sense,” Owen complained. Jack turned to look at him and raised an eyebrow.</p><p>“Mind sharing with the class?” he asked, his tone stating that it wasn’t a request. Owen shrugged and moved to Ianto’s side with the plaster.</p><p>“Okay. I’ll stick to the basics, try to avoid any complicated terminology.” His tone was condescending, but Jack let it slide. For now. “Tea boy here is injured in two main places. First, he was bitten on his neck.” Owen pointed to the plaster. It was neatly applied, so obviously, Owen hadn’t applied it.</p><p>“Bitten?”</p><p>“Bitten. Second is that his knuckles are bruised on his right hand. So whoever bit him, he fought back.” Jack, who was looking at Ianto’s hand, snapped his head up.</p><p>“Whoever?” he questioned. “You mean-“</p><p>“Yup. Ianto was bitten by a human,” Owen said matter-of-factly. “It’s more common than you’d think. That means that he’ll be more at risk for infection, but we’ll keep an eye on it.” Jack nodded. He’d been in battle; teeth were sometimes better weapons than fists. Or they were the only thing you had.</p><p>“Okay, but what doesn’t make sense?” Jack asked, growing worried. Owen nodded.</p><p>“He’s lost blood, but not much more than you’d give when you donate. Which is inconsistent with this sort of neck wound. Not to mention that there was almost no blood on the scene. He should have needed a transfusion, but-” Owen stopped talking for a moment. He gingerly reached forward and removed the plaster from Ianto’s neck. Jack flinched, but the plaster was almost entirely white, only one small spot was bloodied. It made no sense.</p><p>“What on earth?” Jack mumbled, leaning in to take a closer look at the bite. It was clearly defined, a rough circle of tooth marks, bright red against Ianto’s skin. But they weren’t bleeding, save for one of the smaller ones that welled up a drop. But it was way too soon for them to have scabbed. Instead, a transparent substance, sort of like glue, kept the blood where it belonged.</p><p>“Yeah.” Owen sighed. “Makes no sense. But, it’s the reason he didn’t bleed out, so we’re lucky.” He pointed a gloved finger at the open mark. “I took a sample off of that one to test it. Hopefully, that will help us find the attacker.” He looked at Jack. “I’m assuming you haven’t seen anything like this?” Jack shook his head.</p><p>“Never. Is there anything else unusual?" Owen nodded sharply.</p><p>“One more thing.” He pointed at two of the tooth marks, on top, and four teeth in between them. “Those would have been caused by the canines. And they’re puncture marks, way deeper than any normal human could have caused.” Owen looked Jack in the eyes, face serious. “If I didn’t know any better, and I’m not sure I do, I would say that he was attacked by a vampire.”</p><p> </p><hr/><p> </p><p>When John came down from his bloodlust, he was surprised to find himself feeling a little guilty. Strange. He was also lying face down on a rooftop, the morning sun beating down on him. Well, as much as it could in Cardiff. Somehow, less strange. He sat up, scratching the side of his hand on broken glass. He watched as the cut welled up a drop of silver before healing completely just a second later.</p><p>“Alright, so I fed,” he murmured to himself. He got to his feet and brushed himself off. It was then that the memories of the night before hit him. “Sweet goddesses, I’ve really gone and fucked this up, haven’t I?” He began to walk toward the edge of the roof; he needed to get out of Cardiff or hide, <em> now</em>. Luckily, he could move almost silently if he chose. A combination of Time Agency training and the Fadah. Harder, better, faster, stronger.</p><p>He dashed across the roof, light-footed, and leaped for a window ledge on the next building over. His fingers gripped the sill, and he dangled for a moment, the toes of his boots scraping against the brick. Then he gained purchase and pulled himself up, balancing delicately on the ledge. </p><p>He didn’t like running, but he couldn’t risk another jump; he already had to leave his laser knife to cover his arrival back in Cardiff. Why he hadn’t just jumped to say, London, and caught a train? He wasn’t a fan of what passed for public transport in this backward century. So damn slow.</p><p>If it was night, John’d just go back to the club. Stupid backward century with their clubs and bars open only at night. Prudes. He’d need to find somewhere else to hide out. And gods, he needed a drink. At least he still had his smokes. He reached into his jacket to find them, then remembered that he was still standing on a window ledge. Right. Deal with that first.</p><p>He was on the third floor of a five-floor building, but he didn’t want to go in. Too high a chance of being seen. Luckily, there was a fire escape a few windows over, so he carefully stepped across the ledges. Then he clambered up the metal, trying to be quiet. It didn’t work that well, but he didn’t hear any screaming. So, no one noticed. Hopefully. On top of another building, John could see more of the city. Bigger than where he’d grown up, but so retro at the same time.</p><p>John wasn’t a fan of roofs. Apparently, now that was more Jack’s speed. He’d never done it when John knew him, back before they used the names they used now. John frowned. Jack was immortal now, but how long had he lived? He was still the same man John loved, at least on the surface. But time changed people, and John was sure that Jack had much more time than most.</p><p>Shaking his head, John loped across the roof, heading for the stairwell. Once he was back on the ground, he could make his way across Cardiff, find someplace to get a drink. Or smoke at the very least. Really, he should leave. Get the hell out of town before Eye Candy told Jack who attacked him. But then again, Jack couldn’t do anything to him. Not anymore.</p>
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